


Taste of His Own Medicine

by MamaBearto2



Series: Prank War [5]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 12:54:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18499378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaBearto2/pseuds/MamaBearto2
Summary: An afternoon of sweet revenge leaves Buck stuck.





	Taste of His Own Medicine

Hey Everybody! Here is a fun little short, placed in I'maMePanda's YP AU/timeline - somewhere in the middle of the infamous 'Prank War'. I wrote it in an attempt to initiate some Muse juices in the form of Band of Brothers or Searching for Serenity...it only sort of helped, but I'll keep at it! ;)

A huge thank you to I'maMePanda! I thank her big time for her help, her beta work and the fact she lets me build sandcastles in her sandbox. ;) She's also a great friend!

Hopefully this gives everyone a bit of a chuckle!

**YP**

Ward peered over the top of his beer, brown eyes squinting just a bit in the darkened interior of the saloon. Across the room, there was movement from the peacekeeper's table, the tracker dropping into a chair, a grin big as the state he hailed from plastered on his face. A hint of humor tinted Ward's eyes and he leaned back in his seat, taking his drink with him. He wasn't exactly sure why the young man was so giddy, but as he watched the tracker, his curiosity grew. Ward set his beer down just as Mr. Jackson arrived, and he watched the tracker shove something...a bottle maybe, deep inside his hide coat before greeting the healer.

There had been talk around town and if this had anything to do with escalating 'prank war', Ward was staying for the show. It'd been a long week out to the Edwards' and he could use whatever humor the young men across the building were up to.

He couldn't hear much of anything with the late afternoon crowd, but the animated gestures that the youngest- what was his name….JD? Was making as he rushed into the saloon simply added to the buzz of excitement that was brewing at the Seven's usual table. It put him in mind of his sister's boys, young teens he hadn't seen in a few years, getting worked up over everything from a wolf print to the canceling of school.

Bringing his drink to his lips, he sipped the cool liquid, watching as the buckskin clad tracker tipped back in one of the chairs. The young man was grinning like a loon, nodding in response to something one of the others said, before suddenly leaning forward so quickly, he almost toppled right over. Probably would have if the healer hadn't grabbed the chair. Ward stifled a bit of a chuckle, unwilling to do anything that could potentially stall whatever was coming.

The healer released the chair once it was returned to all fours, saying something to the tracker that received nothing more than a quick wave off in return. Ward's eyes moved back to JD, the boy practically bouncing in place, pointing at first the tracker and then the gambler, who, half hidden in the shadows near the wall, gave reason to why Ward had been unsure the young man was even in attendance.

The healer began shaking his head, standing abruptly, a fierce glare being sent in first the tracker's direction and then the gambler's. Ward barely contained a snort, when Mr. Jackson's hands went to waving a bit, and a clear, 'Ya done what?!" came across the saloon, though the lack of customer response to the healer's half shout told of the normalcy of raised voices in the drinking hall.

Watching, now in half curiosity and half concern, Ward leaned forward and set his beer back on the table. JD had moved back from the table at Mr. Jackson's exclamation, while it appeared the gambler- Ezra, if Ward recalled correctly- was in a heated, though hushed discussion with the healer.

Movement at his shoulder had him looking up, grinning at Inez as she set a plate of food on the table in front of him. "Thank you, Ms. Recillos." Ward said, his eyes wandering back to the scene in the corner. He took up his fork, only to set it down, looking back up as Inez spoke softly.

"They are fun to watch, are they not?" she asked, gazing over at the four young men who were now hovered over the table, whispering amongst themselves. He nodded, and then shook his head slightly.

"From what I hear, I'd say they are playing with fire," he said with another glance at her before retrieving his fork once more.

"I fear this prank war may end with tar and feathers." The humor in her voice caused a chuckle to escape him.

"Now that's something I definitely don't want to miss." Ward smiled before turning back to his meal, a darting glance proving nothing yet had changed at the other table.

"Enjoy your dinner, Mr. French."

Inez moved off, Ward's thank you followed by the quiet sounds of fork against plate. He ate in silence, watching as the healer's upset glare moved from the gambler to the tracker. The tracker shrugged, Mr. Jackson's voice raising a notch once more as, "He's gonna kill ya!" was heard this time, the healer throwing his hands up in exasperation.

The batwing doors of the saloon banged open with force, Ward nearly dropping his drink, as a bellow unlike anything he'd ever heard erupted across the smoky interior of the saloon. Wilmington stormed into the drinking establishment, putting Ward in mind of a mad bull, head ducking once and again, as he pulled at his hat with a frustrated snort. The gesture was odd by far, but it took only a matter of seconds for realization to dawn on Ward, a grin fighting its way across his face. While unsure what it was, there was something oozing down the man's face, sticking to his fingers as he pulled at his hat.

"Boys!"

A chair banged against the wall, Ward stifling a laugh as the gambler shot up, shimmying between Nathan and the wall before the tracker had even managed to get to his feet. Wilmington didn't pause in his trek across the room, obviously intent on the boys' table. He'd stopped pulling at his hat long enough to bark out something about honey and Ms. Angel as he advanced. The tracker took his leave at that, in one fluid motion the chair he'd been in was tipped over, and he was gone, out the back door before the upset man came any closer.

"JD!" Wilmington found the one who had yet to move, Ward shaking his head as the gambler shoved past the healer, making his bid for freedom moments after the tracker, the back door banging once again. Ward was aware the saloon had quieted to a dull hum, everyone watching in barely concealed merriment mixed with bits of confusion, all afraid to breath, less the man's ire turn on them. Despite not being a 'regular' in town, Ward knew the man was not prone to bouts of anger and seeing him as such was likely confusing to the locals.

JD's hands went up in front of him, placating, a whimper Ward couldn't make out escaping the teen as he backed away from the tall man. He darted behind the table in a heartbeat when one of Wilmington's long arms grabbed for him. The healer moved away, clearly not interested in being in the middle, the ladies man spewing dire threats that seemed to fall on deaf ears. JD made his way around the opposite side, Buck not far behind him. In clear desperation, JD pushed the gambler's empty chair forward as a blockade between them, bolting away from the table a second later as he made for the back door after his brothers.

Ward ate without looking, chuckles escaping him as the healer took one step back when Wilmington's fiery gaze landed on him. "Buck, you know I-"

"Ain't stupid Nate." Wilmington shook his head, taking a few deep breaths, before trying once more to pull the hat off his head. The healer moved closer in order to aid the man, and Ward winced with the peacekeeper as his hat slowly came loose, pulling and tearing at the man's hair in the process.

"I'm gonna kill 'em." Wilmington's quiet words were tinged with anger, the lingering hush the only reason Ward heard them, and Mr. Jackson nodded in agreement.

"Told 'em so," the healer tugged once more and the hat came loose, Wilmington swearing as it did. Looking from the hat, back to Wilmington, he added, "Told ya not to mess with Ezra's clothes."


End file.
